Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

Gina was overjoyed at the good news she had just witnessed, and her courage swelled up. She straightened her back, pulled out a large pile of snacks from an unknown corner, placed them on the table, and then pulled Karna to sit down.

"Come on, we don't have any shifts tomorrow, let's party all night tonight!"

"Oh……"

Karna gave a curt reply, and then, as usual, was pulled away...

He sat down on the sofa next to Gina, grabbed a game controller, and started his own battle tonight, just like her.

As night deepened, Gina, who had been living in fear all day, started to feel sleepy after only a few games. Her mood had been fluctuating wildly, and her eyelids began to droop. Her head tilted to one side, and she unconsciously leaned into Karna's arms and fell fast asleep.

Karna shook his head, and like an old father, reached out and pulled a blanket over Ginako, then quietly sat down to one side, closed his eyes, and gradually lost consciousness.

Under the hazy moonlight, two heads, one large and one small, leaned against each other.

——————————Plot Break———————————

The scorching flames spread across the scorching surface, devouring everything in their path. The rolling clouds, rumbling with thunder, burst open and then regrouped, like venomous snakes slithering about. All living things in the world were silenced in this fateful battle, and the parched air was occasionally filled with the agonizing screams of hard rock being cleaved and burned.

Two figures stood facing each other, ignoring the hellish scene before them.

He gazed silently at his half-brother, whose wounds, now free from the protection of his golden armor, slowly oozed blood, spreading like ink on pale skin—a shockingly vivid red.

Arjuna struggled to suppress his inner turmoil. His opponent was merely the lowly son of a charioteer; even if he was of the bloodline of the sun god, it did not change the fact that he was of humble origin. As a descendant of the noble god Indra, he could not immediately kill him. The intense shame made him ignore his opponent's request for a temporary truce, and his fingers lightly touched the bowstring.

The wavering instantly turned into anger, which roared and shattered the silence.

Thunder roared up, striking the pale figure standing motionless in the flames with the pride of a "divinely bestowed hero." Fire and thunder collided with a tremendous explosion, and the flying debris struck the chariot whose wheels were stuck in quicksand before disappearing into the fine rain, leaving ripples and an untimely silence.

The flames gently enveloped the boy, suppressing their previous violence and softly licking his wounds.

The rain intensified, and the rising steam mingled with the flames, transforming into a beautiful mist. Through the haze, his pale face betrayed no emotion, only the slight movement of his lips.

"So that's how it is, this is fate..."

Facing a hail of arrows, the gushing blood mingled with the flames on his body, as if he were wrapped in a crimson veil.

Karna slowly collapsed in the rain, clutching a lotus flower that had drooped and been soaked by the rain in his hand.

In an instant, all light and heat ceased.

The flames followed the falling sun.

went out.

——————————Plot Break———————————

The sun shines unflinchingly on these impoverished people, bestowing upon them empty promises. Heavy labor and harsh conditions are the complacency of these born lowly. Young children laugh and play, watching their parents, their backs hunched and drenched in sweat, and knowing that their own lives will eventually be filled with dust, and they laugh even louder.

Amidst the noise, the boy whom the other children called a "freak" quietly watched his family not far away. He would never join their games, always helping the old coachman wash his dilapidated cart. This made him seem somewhat out of place among the other children, but it wasn't just his behavior that was strange.

The golden armor became one with his body, and the sun-shaped earrings always swayed gently as the boy ran and jumped.

Pale, almost transparent skin contrasted with a deep red line lying at the corner of the eye.

He suffered a lot of ridicule and humiliation for this, but he never seemed to care much.

"Karna, what are you thinking?"

The driver wiped the mud off his hands from repairing the wheels and looked at his son who had come over and was now squatting down beside him.

"Nothing, it's my father. I was just... just wondering why the sun is still so blinding even though it's already so hot."

He gazed at the laborers not far away, sweating profusely on the cracked earth.

"Perhaps it's because Lord Surya, the sun god, saw something that made him happy."

The driver gently patted the boy's thin back, recalling the first time he saw him.

It was a hot afternoon. He was still tidying up his odd repair tools when he saw his wife, who should have been washing clothes by the river, rushing over, carefully carrying something in her hands.

A baby.

The newborn boy lay quietly with his eyes closed, as if not asleep but deep in thought. Beneath his slightly sickly pale skin, the golden armor reflected the soft, warm sunlight, revealing his innate and unparalleled nobility.

He should have been incomparably noble.

"Karna, what do you think we are? Are we lowly dust that cannot bear the light of day?"

The driver snapped out of his thoughts and smiled as he looked at the quiet boy beside him.

"us……"

He lowered his head and gently rubbed the dust off the ground with his fingers.

"If we are destined to be humble, then being dust is not so bad; after all, that's how things are meant to be."

The boy thought carefully and gently drew circles on the ground, clearing away the small stones blocking the ants' path.

"But...it's not that it can't be seen in the light of day."

He paused, then spoke in a slightly immature but firm voice.

"The sun does not leave us only with darkness because we are humble, but equally bestows light and heat upon all beings, so we have nothing to be ashamed of."

The play of nearby children

The laughter sounded somewhat distant, and the smoke rising from the makeshift shed carried the smell of poorly cooked food.

As dusk settled, the day's accumulated heat slowly melted away in the long, trailing skirt of the sunset, and someone began to sing a dirge of prayer in the twilight.

——————————Plot Break———————————

The bamboo forest behind me rustled intermittently, bringing a touch of weariness amidst the coolness.

The boy stubbornly pleaded with his master, the respected "martial arts master" De Rona. However, this request violated the strictest rules. De Rona shook his head once more before his gifted but humble student.

“Give up, Karna. The secrets of Brahma’s magic can only be taught to Brahmins and Kshatriyas.”

But even he couldn't help but become curious. Why was this boy, who was usually "desireless" and only focused on practicing martial arts, suddenly so obsessed with the secrets of the Brahma Treasure? His pale face even flushed slightly with eagerness.

A silence, mingled with the clamor of the bamboo forest like a tidal wave, flowed between the two.

Karna gently closed his eyes, his pale white bangs swaying slightly in the wind, and his thoughts drifted back to that day.

The instant I saw that person.

The crowd surrounded the five Panditas who had just displayed their skills, basking in the admiration and blessings of the crowd with smiles of graciousness on their faces. Their noble birth and glorious mission made even the glaring sunlight seem less impressive.

Amid the excited crowd, a figure stood motionless, draped in a slightly worn cloak to conceal his pale skin and incongruous identity, his emerald eyes fixed on one of the five on the stage.

Arjuna.

It's like a huge rock suddenly being thrown into a still lake, causing a splash before sinking endlessly.

With superb archery skills and astonishing strength, the seemingly casual flick of the fingers on the bowstring resulted in an arrow appearing on the target paper, hitting the bullseye precisely.

It wasn't idle jealousy, nor was it worldly competitiveness; perhaps only the ambiguous word "fate" could describe the turmoil echoing in the young man's heart at that moment.

For the first time, he felt the emotion of "desire"—a desire to become stronger. This unfamiliar feeling was so intense that a faint taste of blood lingered in the boy's mouth.

The evening breeze in the mountains was somewhat sharp, and the birdsong hidden in the bamboo forest began to fade. Karna pulled himself out of his thoughts, calmly looked at his master, and said softly.

"It can only be taught to Brahmins and Kshatriyas... I see."

After bowing respectfully, the young man rose to leave. The setting sun gently touched his golden armor, his pale face revealing no expression.

Derona watched his disciple's departing figure, lost in thought. An untimely rustling sound came from the bamboo forest.

"got windy……"

——————————Plot Break———————————

The stinging pain in his leg wasn't unbearable, but it still made the boy somewhat agitated. More than the physical pain, the poison called "obsession" was the root of his confusion and suffering.

Arjuna.

The afternoon sun wasn't harsh, and the surroundings were quiet; even every speck of dust seemed to lie still, carefully concealing itself. This was a sacred place belonging to the Brahmins, a place where dust shouldn't exist.

This also includes him, who came from humble beginnings.

Karna lied.

After being rejected by Drona, consumed by his obsession, he lied to Rama the Axe-Wielder, a noble Brahmin who could teach him the secrets of Brahma's magic.

He has understood his humble origins since he can remember, but he has never belittled himself because of it, nor is he ashamed to admit his background.

Even though the dust particles are barely visible, the sense of freedom and joy that floats in the air under the sunlight is real.

But when his obsession with surpassing that person ignited like a raging fire, he still uttered that lie he could never forgive himself for.

As if to conceal his wavering and guilt, Karna studied martial arts so diligently that he almost tormented himself, only taking a short break when the moonlight poured down like silver ribbons.

But dawn always comes quickly. In the stillness of the night, the boy stood quietly under the moonlight, watching the fading stars, letting the gentle mountain breeze caress his pale white hair.

Waiting for dawn under the moon.

His talent and diligence not only enabled him to quickly master the secrets of Brahma's magic weapon, but also amazed his master, Axe-Holder Rama. However, this still could not change the fact that he lied and concealed his origins.

Thinking of this, the stinging pain in his leg seemed almost unbearable. The boy gently adjusted his breathing, trying not to disturb Rama, who was fast asleep with his head on his lap, letting the small insect greedily suck his blood. It was so quiet that you could even hear the sound of blood flowing. Sunlight began to filter through the leaves, and Karna shifted slightly, trying to block out some of the glare and heat, to prolong this moment of tranquility.

“…Karna…I’m sorry I slept for so long.”

The man's kind gaze, tinged with weariness, turned to the exceptionally talented young man. Among the Brahmins he had taught martial arts, Karna was undoubtedly outstanding.

But the scent carried by the wind soon shattered all illusions of tranquility and peace.

is blood.

Of course, he also saw the insect bite wounds on the boy's legs, and the increasingly pale skin emitted a piercing sensation that was even more intense than the pain.

As a Brahmin, he naturally knew this.

What does endurance mean?

"Who are you, really? If you continue to lie and say you are a Brahmin, this sunset will be the last thing you ever see."

Karna noticed that the doe, who had just been drinking water by the stream not far away, seemed to sense something and hurriedly jumped into the bushes behind her, her hasty escape looking somewhat comical.

He looked up at his master.

“Karna, son of a charioteer, is not a Brahmin.”

The voice sounded devoid of emotion, but there were several shallow bloodstains on the tightly clenched palms.

The bushes rustled behind Rama, who wielded his axe, though there was no wind. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on Karna, who was still kneeling on the ground, his killing intent spreading rapidly and undisguisedly. The lie had broken his vow, an unforgivable transgression.

This mistake should have been erased immediately.

The boy, his leg still bleeding from the wound, wore a calm expression of acceptance, his face paler than usual. The man sighed inwardly, and the woods behind him fell silent, waiting for something.

"I hereby curse Karna: the Brahma artifacts you wield will be useless in the life-or-death moments of battle!"

On the vast meadow, only the boy knelt, like a frozen statue. He heard the timid doe behind him tentatively approach the stream, licking its cool lips. The sun had long since abandoned this land, and the familiar moonlight, gentler than ever, soothed the restless creatures in the darkness, and the lonely figure in the clearing.

——————————Plot Break———————————

The usually solemn and serious Kuru clan council was bustling with activity on this day, filled with numerous nobles of high status. Today was a special day; Dhritarashtra and the Pandavas would demonstrate their martial arts skills in the training ground, which was already packed with people. The appearance of the Pandavas always drew the loudest cheers, but not everyone offered genuine blessings.

The man standing to the side of the stage made no attempt to hide his disdain and jealousy. As he watched the five figures displaying their talents on the stage, curses ran rampant in his heart like an out-of-control carriage.

As one of the hundred sons of Dhritarashtra, he also had a noble birth, but precisely because of this, his fear of the five Pandita brothers grew day by day. Excessive hatred forced him to shift his focus elsewhere, and now was not the time to erupt.

A figure below the stage caught Nan Di's attention. He was the only one standing quietly in the crowd, his face obscured by a tattered cloak, making him seem out of place.

But what truly piqued Nandi's interest was not his somewhat strange behavior and attire, but rather the aura emanating from him, which carried a heat no less intense than the sun.

The renewed cheers drew Durdi's attention back to the stage, and he couldn't help but let out a cold snort.

Arjuna.

Even among the Pandavas, he stood out. His archery skills, while not exactly "exquisite," were somewhat mediocre; the arrows he shot surpassed even the concept of "speed." To have him as an opponent would be terrifying; one's vitals would likely be pierced before one's brain could even issue the "understanding" command.

Although I hate to admit it, there is probably no one in the world who can compare to Arjuna's archery skills.

The noise from below the stage made Nan Di somewhat irritated. He subconsciously looked for the peculiar figure from earlier, only to be surprised to find that the source of the disturbance was him.

The crowd jostled and pushed their way through a narrow path leading to the arena, a mixture of jeers and schadenfreude. Some samurai, trying to maintain order, tried to cross the arena to stop the farce, but Nobita quietly stopped them, holding his breath.

The hand that emerged from the cloak was thin and slender, unusually pale and slightly sickly. The fingers gently touched the brim of the hood, removed the cloak, and slowly walked towards the arena.

The stark contrast between his golden armor and his previous shabby attire was somewhat disconcerting. The sun-shaped earrings on his earlobes swayed slightly with his quiet steps. His moon-white hair, still damp with the lingering noise, seemed out of place, contrasting with his pale, almost translucent skin and the deep red slits at the corners of his eyes.

All eyes were on the boy, and the silence came somewhat abruptly.

Arjuna watched the figure walking towards him from below the stage, struggling to control his surprise. The blazing sun that had just been scorching now seemed cold and terrifying, and he didn't even realize that his fingers had already touched the bowstring.

The boy stepped onto the arena, his emerald eyes fixed on Arjuna, letting the silence build up.